


The Office Party

by donutwolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Belly Kink, Chubby Stiles, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Content, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 19:00:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6578545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donutwolf/pseuds/donutwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Chris had been signed to the company a few months after Stiles, but from the start, he had spent most of his time working at the side branch in Mexico. They weren’t exactly friends, but--there had always been a certain kind of friction between them. Something that both of them acknowledged yet never really did anything about--because who hooks up with a coworker during office hours? Not Stiles, that’s for sure.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Or, Stiles is fat and Chris is into it. Sex happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Office Party

**Author's Note:**

> Fat smut, pure and simple.

Stiles popped the last spring roll into his mouth and licked his fingers clean. He looked around for a table to set his empty plate on, but since there was none close by, he stuck in in the pot of one of the big ferns by the window; he’d clean it up later.

He was left with his drink and he took it down slow while enjoying the view. The space the firm had rented for this little office party was on the top floor of one of the city’s tallest buildings and the view from its floor length windows was breathtaking. Stiles sipped from his cup while his eyes swam over the sea of lights beneath him; from distance, the warm glow of the street lamps made him forget it was supposed to be December. 

His stomach rumbled and Stiles could feel a burp making its way up. He stifled it behind a fist, but the following hiccup slipped past his guard. “Oops,” he said, but glancing around, no one was actually paying him attention. The party looked like it was starting to wind down; the music was still loud and there were people dancing in the dimmed lighting, but the tempo was slower, more intimate and seductive. 

Stiles turned back to the window. He was feeling pleasantly drunk with food and booze; good thing the company never spared their expenses when treating the employees, although Stiles was starting to think he was taking too much advantage of the free pastry in the break room. Not to mention the Pizza Fridays every other week, or the free snacks they provided for overtime workers. Three years with the company and Stiles was getting--well, he was getting fat.

He caught his reflection in the window as he finished his drink, and yeah, the evidence of his indulgence was all there: he had gotten  _ big _ . Or at least one part of him had. 

Stiles’s belly had ballooned into a round, sagging gut. With all the food from the party buffet bloating it up further, he could see the buttons of his shirt looking a little strained under the weight of his fat. Stiles flushed, regretting his choice to leave his suit jacket by the table. Not that the jacket did anything to hide his girth from his coworkers--it was plain and evident to everyone who knew him that he was playing in the big league now, but somehow, flaunting his belly like this felt… indecent.

Another rumble went through his stomach and Stiles sent a clumsy hand to sooth it. He pushed lightly on the hard curve of his gut, kneading his fingers in in a way he knew would help ease it. He felt massive--and he  _ looked _ massive.

He took advantage of the full length view of himself, taking in his new shape, and another warm flush left his body tingling. The chubby college graduate who had struggled to remain under 200 pounds had let himself get gorged to--god knows how many pounds? All Stiles knew was that his college weight had been puppy fat compared to where he clocked in now. 

Stiles swayed a little as he ran his hand down the expanse of his gut. Compared to its size, his thick legs and meaty arms looked almost lean; only his big, soft tits seemed to have kept up with his gain. He couldn’t resist turning a little to catch the angle of his gut hanging over the waist of his slacks; it looked so  _ heavy _ .

He caught a move on the reflection--a move not made by him. 

“Never get tired of it.” 

Stiles dropped his hand as fast as he could as he turned to see Chris Argent standing just a few steps behind him. He had one hand in his pocket, the other one holding a wineglass, and his eyes were traveling to destinations that made Stiles’s face heat up again--which, okay, happened quite often in this particular company, he had to admit.

Stiles blinked, trying to get back up to speed through the haze in his head. “Uh, tired of what?”

Chris’s mouth spread into a soft smile, his eyes looking straight at Stiles. “The view,” he said.

His voice was warm, and close, and just when Stiles thought he meant something else, Chris’s eyes slipped past him. He took a place next to Stiles, raising his glass to the city as if in a toast before taking it to his lips. “The city that never sleeps.”

“Oh, yeah.” Stiles followed his gaze back out of the window, but he couldn’t focus on the scenery now.

Chris had been signed to the company a few months after Stiles, but from the start, he had spent most of his time working at the company’s side branch in Mexico; Stiles had actually been surprised to even see him at the party. They weren’t exactly friends, but--there had always been a certain kind of  _ friction  _ between them. Something that both of them acknowledged yet never really did anything about--because who hooks up with a coworker during office hours? Not Stiles, that’s for sure. 

He cleared his throat. “So, how is the warm South?”

“Warm.” Chris gave him a glance, smirking a little. “A couple of rogue investors are giving me some heat, but nothing I couldn’t handle.” 

Stiles made a noncommittal sound, trying not to get lost in Chris’s eyes. They were so  _ blue.  _ He made an effort to focus when Chris spoke again.

“And you, still enjoying the cool North?”

“Eh, could be worse.” Stiles shrugged, easing into the conversation. “Business is business, but at least there’s free food, and free beer.” He laughed, patting his gut before realizing what he was doing.

Chris followed the movement of his hand and Stiles could swear he was biting on his lip when he looked up.  “You look like you enjoy free food and beer,” he said, his voice sounding rougher.

The words echoed through Stiles’s fuzzy head for a moment; he felt his skin tingle, heat rising to the surface.

This was the first time they had gone this far, and for the first time they were not stuck in the break room or the office floors, and all this flirty banter combined with the booze was making Stiles’s head reel, but  _ god _ , he wanted more.

“Guilty as charged,” Stiles grinned. He was sure that his face was red all over. Still, he couldn’t resist petting his belly again--he slapped it on the side, sending jiggles through the fat flesh.

The look on Chris’s face was worth it. Stiles drank it in, keeping his hand on his gut where Chris’s eyes were fixed. His heart was racing and the beer made him feel bolder than he was when he slid his hand down the curve of his gut, knowing that there was no turning back now.

“You look like you’re enjoying it too,” Stiles said, feeling embarrassed at how  _ bad _ he was at this.

Or, maybe not that bad, because when he sank his hand into his soft lower gut to drive in what he meant, Chris looked  _ enthralled _ . It spurred Stiles on and he grabbed his overhang and lifted it a little, feeling like he might soon explode if--

“If you mean that I like how it looks on you, then yeah, I enjoy it. More and more, every time I see you.”

Chris was suddenly right there, his hot voice tickling Stiles’s ear; he was so  _ close _ yet somehow there were still too many inches between their bodies. Stiles resisted the urge to close the distance between them; at the back of his head, he was still aware that there were other people present as well.  

So instead, he hushed back, “Then why are we not doing something about it?”

He waited for Chris to answer; time seemed to slow down, and just when he thought he’d been too frank, Chris leaned back. Stiles felt the impending reality check break though his drunken state, his mouth ready to call off the joke.

“That’s an excellent question,” Chris said. He took a step in, plucked the empty cup from Stiles’s grip and placed in on the window sill with his own wineglass. Then he turned back to Stiles, heat brimming in his blue eyes.

“Shall we?”

  
  
  
  
  


Chris led him out of the party, pausing to let Stiles grab his jacket. The crowd had thinned, people having left to continue their night out in the city. Most of the ones still left were either too drunk or too preoccupied with their own mating games to pay attention to Stiles leaving with Chris. Which--okay, Stiles didn’t actually mind being associated with a hunk like Chris, but maybe Chris thought otherwise. 

They filed out through the door into a softly lit lobby. It was quieter there, and Stiles stopped to pull on his suit jacket and catch his breath. He hadn’t realized how full he was until they’d started walking, and now he could feel his stomach whining and gurgling from being jostled around. He pressed on his gut, wincing a little until the air came out. 

He was still feeling breathless when he turned around. “Okay, ready to go?” 

“We’re not leaving,” Chris said.

Before Stiles could ask, Chris took his hand and pulled him with him down one of the corridors leading to other suites on the same floor.

“Where are we--”

“Here.”

Chris took out a keycard from his pocket and slid it in the reader, then opened a door to an unlit room. He gestured for Stiles to enter.

Stiles raised his brow, peering into the dark space inside. “You keep a room here?”

“Not exactly,” Chris said, looking amused. His eyes kept wandering on Stiles’s body, but he made no move to touch him. “I have free access to it when I’m here to meet clients.”

Stiles snorted. “Of course, yeah.”

It wasn’t so dark inside once his eyes got used to it. Like the party suite, this one had floor length windows as well; the city behind them gave enough light so Stiles could first see that the suite was furnished with a mid-sized meeting table and a set of chairs. As he walked further in, he found a cluster of elegant seats and a sleek coffee table set by the windows. “Wow,” Stiles said under his breath. He burped softly, rubbing his gut quickly to ease it before turning back to Chris. “So this is how you know the view, huh? You got some nice benefits, dude.”

With the light behind him, Stiles could see Chris clearly as he approached, slowly walking up to Stiles and finally resting his hands on his swollen middle. He slipped them smoothly inside Stiles’s jacket to feel the sides of his belly, making him gasp in surprise.

He could hear the rough edge of lust on Chris’s voice when he asked, “Is this okay?”

Stiles almost laughed. “More than okay, I--” He stopped, not knowing what to ask for, except  _ more.  _ “I want it, do it, please--”

Chris didn’t need any more incentives; he pushed Stiles back against the windows and kissed him, hands grabbing at his pudgy waist greedily. With Stiles’s stuffed gut between them, Chris had to lean against him to reach his lips and the weight of his wiry body made Stiles gasp from pleasure.

“Take this off,” Chris murmured, slipping his hands in to push Stiles’s jacket off at the shoulders, and once that was done, he slid them down to palm Stiles’s soft chest.

“Fuck, you’ve gotten so much bigger since the last time I was here.”

Stiles shivered, a flash of heat going through him. “Ah, yeah.” He licked his lips. “You know, all that free food the company provides, it’s making us all fat.”

Chris made a sound, his hands squeezing into Stiles’s fat tits roughly before letting them go and returning to Stiles’s middle.

“Not  _ all  _ of us,” he said, giving his belly a meaningful pat. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but something was stopping him.

“Turn around.”

It took Stiles a moment to respond; he felt Chris give him a light nudge and found himself obeying the command.

“Hands up,” Chris said, helping Stiles position his elbows against the window, then pulling his hips back, making him lean harder against the cold surface.

Stiles rested his head against the glass, his breathing soon fogging it. He jumped a little when Chris touched him again--both hands on his waist, slowly learning the shape and give of his budding lovehandles and softening back. Stiles shuddered, gasping out harsh breaths when Chris’s fingers delved into his fat sides.

“You’re getting softer here.”

Chris released his grip only to slap the soft bulges on Stiles’s waist, making his fat body jiggle.

“But you still look so  _ skinny  _ from behind, it drives me  _ crazy, _ ” Chris continued. He ran his hands along Stiles’s back before reaching down to grasp big handfuls of his fat belly. “From behind, I’d never guess you had a gut like this, Stiles.”

Stiles bit back another moan, not wanting to give out how turned on he was but--god, with every jiggle that Chris sent through his gut, Stiles felt himself give in. In this position, his belly felt  _ huge,  _ hanging off his middle like a ball of blubber; he wanted to guide Chris’s hands in, wanted them kneading the ache from his swollen stomach, but--fuck, this was more than enough for now.

Chris’s fingers were playing with the buttons of his shirt. Trailing the line of them, looking for a way in. Getting distracted and  _ grabbing _ his gut, making it all wobble between his hands until Stiles couldn’t control the sounds he was making.  _ Finally _ popping the first button, then the next, until his shirt fell open at his waist and he could feel Chris touch his bare skin.

Chris let out a harsh breath; Stiles could feel the weight of him, the greediness of his fingers on his fat flesh. “Fuck, you‘re getting so  _ big _ .” Chris’s voice came out low, almost ragged as he slid his palms over Stiles’s round gut, all the way up to where his fat breasts rested against his belly.

Chris pushed his hands in the crease under Stiles’s chest, palms still flat against his stomach. They were both breathing fast now, heavy and hot, caught in the moment with no distractions.

Stiles jolted, a gasp slipping past his lips when he felt Chris cup his tits underneath his shirt. “Aa-ah,  _ fuck _ .” He was momentarily overwhelmed with the sensation; it had been awhile since he’d been touched like this and somehow, he hadn’t realized just how sensitive his soft chest had gotten. Now, with Chris’s strong fingers playing with his nipples, pinching and teasing the supple flesh, the sensory overload left him on the verge of a meltdown.

“Stiles,” Chris said softly, tightening his hold--no, tugging him up, guiding him to turn around.

Stiles wiped his face on a sleeve and shook out his shoulders before looking at Chris; he needed a moment to gather himself before facing round two. “Jesus, dude, you’re not messing around here,” he said, feeling lightheaded as he leaned against the window behind him. “Well, technically you  _ are  _ ‘messing around’, but...” Stiles grinned at his own joke, faking confidence while his heart felt like it was going to explode out from his chest.

Chris made a humming sound, reaching out to touch Stiles’s cheek. He looked visibly more flustered now, his eyes all dark and heavy-lidded from lust. “If it’s too much--”

“No.” Stiles stopped him with a hand to his; he kept his eyes locked on Chris’s while he took his hand and moved it down to his belly, pressing it against the round, bloated top. “‘S not too much. Not at all.”

He could see Chris’s face relax; with Stiles’s permission, his attention was now fully guided to where Stiles most needed it. His both hands quickly framed Stiles’s fat belly, pushing the shirt away to reveal the skin underneath.

“Goddamn, Stiles,” Chris murmured in a low voice. There was no sign of slowing down in the firm slap he delivered on Stiles’s middle, sending ripples through his fat flesh. He soothed out the sting before reaching down to run his fingers over Stiles’s lower belly, teasing the soft pudge and making Stiles shiver. “This is one hell of a paunch you’re growing here.”

“Ah, ha, yeah. Getting kinda big, huh?”

Chris  looked up, and god, Stiles had forgotten how fucking dazzling that face could be. “That’s one way of putting it.” He held Stiles’s gaze for a moment and Stiles wanted him to keep talking, but he just smiled that gorgeous smile of his and busied himself with unbuttoning the last of Stiles’s shirt buttons.

He felt Chris’s nimble fingers loosening his tie, not all the way but enough to slip the collar out from underneath it. Then he pushed Stiles’s shirt open all the way.

Chris let out a soft breath. “Jesus, Stiles, you look so, so--” His fingers skimmed over Stiles’s chest, thumbs brushing over his tight nipples; his sentence hung in the air unfinished as he lowered his face down to Stiles’s fat breasts and nuzzled against the softness.

“F-fucking, mm,  _ ahh _ .” Stiles moaned, hands flying up to Chris’s shoulders to anchor himself against the onslaught of sensations currently lighting his system up in a thousand different ways. His hips bucked up, head banging back against the window when Chris latched onto his nipple, sucking  _ hard, _ his mouth traveling all over Stiles’s tits to give every inch its fair share of attention. “Fuck, fuck,  _ Chris _ , g-gah--”

“So  _ beautiful _ ,” Chris murmured, his breath hot against Stiles’s skin as he kissed his way up Stiles’s neck to take his lips again. The kiss was softer than before, but Stiles could feel the heat bubbling underneath the sweetness; it didn’t take long until he felt eager fingers pressing into his pudgy lower gut again.

“Want to open these for me?”

Stiles felt a sharp tug on the waist of his slacks; blushing, he reached down, but stopped before getting to the button. He pulled away from the kiss and smirked. “Mmm, want to open  _ these  _ for me first?” he drawled, running a fingers over the row of buttons on Chris’s shirt front.

“Of course.”

Chris didn’t miss a beat in his response. He gave Stiles’s belly one last squeeze before stepping back and starting to undo his shirt.

The body he revealed was one of the finest Stiles had laid his hands on. “Fuck, I didn’t realize you were so  _ jacked, _ ” he said, suddenly feeling a whole lot fatter.

Chris laughed softly, folding his shirt and tossing it over one of the seats. “Just trying to keep fit, that’s all.” He rolled his shoulders, making the muscles flex under his tanned skin before crowding back against Stiles.

Instead of going back to playing with Stiles’s gut, Chris placed both his hands on the glass wall, trapping Stiles’s head between them.

“Ah, yeah, you’re definitely succeeding in that,” Stiles gasped out as Chris rolled his hips against his fat gut. He ran his hands up Chris’s sides, then down his wiry back and grabbed his ass to pull him tighter against the soft hang of his belly.

Chris sucked in a breath. Their faces were close, noses brushing against each other, the heat of their bodies intermingling as he repeated the move, making Stiles’s swollen belly squish and quiver between them. His stomach was still too full for comfort, but it was a dull sort of ache--easily cast under the waves of pleasure that rocked through his body as Chris ground his hips against him again.

“Take these off.”

Chris laughed. “Wasn’t that my line?” he asked, but pulled back again and obediently undid his slacks. He pushed them down along with his boxers, letting his full cock bounce free in front of him. Stiles licked his lips, but Chris didn’t move. “Your turn, Stiles,” he said, his eyes trailing down his body approvingly.

“Fine, fine,” Stiles grumbled, but he was eager to move things forward as well. He sucked in his gut and fought open the button of his slacks, sighing as he pushed the zipper down. “Happy now?” he asked, glancing at Chris.

“ _ Very,” _ he said, stepping back in front of him. He helped Stiles push down his slacks and as soon as his boxers were down, Chris palmed his erection and gave it a slow stroke. “I’m going to make you very happy too,” he murmured, “ _ very soon _ .”

Chris didn’t stop to wait for his reply--he stole Stiles’s lips in another kiss, one hand on his gut and the other working up a rhythm on his cock. Stiles moaned against his mouth, trying not to come  _ just from that  _ because fuck, his system had been on overload mode since they had left the party.

He felt Chris adjusting himself, finding the right angle to make his cock slide and press against Stiles’s gut. His grip on Stiles’s cock tightened for a moment and Stiles more felt t han heard the sound he made--but then Chris found the rhythm again, starting to slowly fuck his belly while driving him closer to his climax with every beat.

Stiles could feel his fat body wobbling and jiggling as Chris moved against him. His belly  rippled with each stroke, his tits bouncing like jello as the beat got faster. Chris’s face was buried in the crook of his neck, his mouth sucking on his skin in between softly muttered words.

“You feel so good, Stiles, ahh, ngh, your gut feels so  _ good-- _ ”

Suddenly, Chris pushed himself up, putting enough distance between them so that he could look down to where their bodies connected. He kept his grip on Stiles’s cock tight as he swept his eyes over the view below, his breathing coming out in harsh gasps.

“Like what you see?”

Chris shuddered when Stiles asked his question; he looked so  _ gone  _ Stiles thought he wasn’t going to answer, but then he moved again to hold Stiles’s fat gut while teasing the head of his cock, squeezing it and rubbing it against his belly fat.

“Yeah,” Chris said, “I like it.” He slapped Stiles’s gut hard on the side, making Stiles cry out. “Such a big, fat gut, Stiles. You got such a big, fat gut now, I--I remember how skinny you were when I got here and now--” Chris sighed, pausing to admire the way Stiles’s bloated belly  sloshed when he bounced it against his hand. “Look at this gut, fucking, mm--”

Chris dove in to catch one of Stiles’s nipples in his mouth while picking up the pace again. Stiles didn’t recognize the sound that escaped from his throat--it sounded more like an animal caught in heat than anything human--but the pieces were starting to fall into place, there was no stopping now.

The one thing that finally drove him off the edge was the constant  _ motion.  _ Stiles could feel all his extra flesh come to life, jiggling, rippling,  _ bouncing  _ under Chris’s touch. He was getting so fat, fat enough that fucking now made his whole body move like it was made of blubber--and all he wanted was  _ more. _

Chris bit into his breast meat, his hot, wet tongue lapping at his nipple until Stiles could barely breathe. His body convulsed and he came over Chris’s hand, clinging to him as he rode out his orgasm.

“Haa, fuck, Jesus, that was--” Stiles slumped against the wall, trying to catch his breath, but Chris wasn’t done yet.

He grabbed his erection with his come-soaked hand and started jerking off, his eyes fixed on the sight of Stiles splayed out in front of him. He pressed his hand on the side of Stiles’s bloated belly and somehow, that seemed to be enough; within moments, Chris came on his gut in hot streams, grunting before collapsing against Stiles.

“Pretty amazing?” Chris mumbled against Stiles’s skin, still sounding breathless.

“That’s one way of putting it.”Stiles grinned to himself. He felt giddy, and  _ good _ \--sure, his muscles were going to ache tomorrow, but if this wasn’t worth a little exercise, then Stiles didn’t know what was. “One question though,” Stiles said before Chris could jump in. “Since you’re obviously into, uh,  _ this  _ whole thing _ \-- _ why didn’t we do this sooner?”

He felt Chris sigh before straightening up to look at him. “I don’t know, Stiles. Just never seemed like a good opportunity to take the initiative.” He shrugged, looking like he wanted to offer more, but that was the bottom line.

“So tonight…”

“Tonight,” Chris said, now back to smiling at Stiles, “there was an opportunity.”

“But wh--”

“Because seeing you there, looking so ripe and round that all I wanted to do was to take a  _ bite  _ out of your gorgeous gut _ \-- _ ” Chris brushed his lips against Stiles’s, then kissed him sweetly. “--I realized you’re the only view I’m interested in here.”

Stiles wanted to laugh at the cheesiness of that line, but Chris was kissing him again and really, like he had anything to complain.

**Author's Note:**

> Please consider leaving a message if you liked my work. <3


End file.
